


The Will of Survival

by JustSomeLad



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, And you're still reading tags?, Enjoy.........., F/M, I dont know any other tags to be added right now, I really dont know what you're expectin RN tbh., I'm gonna leave okay?, Legit CBA, No seriously enjoy., Oh you're still here?, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, See you later., So im gonna leave for real now., So you can read in peace., Well this is awkward., What-If, You know i've put a lot of work in this already right?, okay?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6642595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSomeLad/pseuds/JustSomeLad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robb survives the red wedding, and Myrcella manages to escape dorne on her own. All the while everyone thinks the war is over, a new one is surely brewing.</p><p>"Its gonna be a long road, but we'll get through it."</p><p>"Together,"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

He can’t help but laugh.

Sitting here, laughing and jesting with his comrades while drinking perhaps the best wine he has tasted in hell, a year?

He feels good, knowing they at least have some time to relax a bit, before they go back to warring tomorrow.

_Before we march onto Casterly Rock._

He also can’t help reminiscing the journey, his journey, to where he is now.

_Leaving Wycombe on my own to join up with the Northern forces, the Battle of the Whispering Wood, Gods, the look on the face of the Kingslayer when a mere boy charged into him! His look once he was toppled though was even better. If there was such a thing as a killing glare, I would have died right there! And then there was Oxcross, when he-_

 

“Oi! Tradesfair! Thinking about the Knight of Flowers again?”

“Fock you Norren!” he replied while joining in on the laughter of everyone else.

“See, I’d rather not, thank you!” Norren replied laughingly, before ducking out of the way of the cup of wine Jajor threw at him. “See that’s what I mean, if you can’t even throw straight, how are we supposed to believe you’ll be actually able to ‘hit’ a lady?”

Jajor was the one laughing the loudest now, though Norren himself normally managed to laugh the loudest about his own jokes.

  _Gods it feels good to laugh properly again, without having to worry about an arrow gone astray or some Lannister I’ve overlooked!_

“Right Norren, but please, tell us again how YOU captured the Kingslayer, cause I’m pretty sure it was my shield that floored him! Proof once again, when it counts, I always hit my target.”

“Well, yeah you floored him, but I actually brought him before the King!”

“You captured the Kingslayer?” one of the other soldier asked in disbelief.

“Well…………. I had a hand in it!”

And for the gods know how many time this night, a smile found his face yet again.

 

_I suppose we all should enjoy this, seeing as we all could be dead tomorrow._

_Speaking of which, what if we survive tomorrow? What if we win this war?_

_I should say WHEN we win this war, positivity Jajor!_

_Heh, well I’m side-tracking, let’s be serious for just a little while atleast okay Jajor?_

_I suppose I would return to Wycombe I guess, reunite with Mom and Dad, and start helping Dad again with the daily affairs. Marching with King Robb has been a tremendous honour, and I will never forget the friends I have made here, but we all have our duties. King Robb has a Kingdom to rule soon on top of Winterfell, the Forresters will return to Ironrath and I will have to return to Balance’s Reach, maybe I’ll even have to take over permanently if Dads condition doesn’t improve._

_The thought, no matter how unpleasant, is still a realistic one. He has never been a hundred percent though since Luka left for Braavos, and seeing as Ruby probably needs to stay in Dorne with her husband, it’s up to me to most likely rule the lands of Pa when I come back._

_Ah Luka, Big brother, why did you leave us? You knew I would become Dads heir, the younger son having to step up because the older had left the family, purely because he wouldn’t let you marry the one he loved. You knew I wouldn’t understand you leaving, you knew I wouldn’t be able to comprehend it all!_

_Yet you left regardless, off to Braavos to become one of those faceless men rumors talked about, to become no-one as you dreamed of._

_You left me with all those responsibilities, and I had no choice but to accept them and learn to live with them._

_Gods know I have messed up as well._

 

He stopped thinking about everything as one of the squires (“Gared right?”) offered him some more wine, which he refused as politely as he could.

He didn’t even notice his eyes had started to tear before one tear fell onto the hand that was resting on his knee, before quickly wiping the tears away from his eyes.

  _No, I must stay strong, I have to. Mother stayed strong for me when I didn’t understand why Luka left us, I have to stay strong to._

_Besides, Balance’s Reach isn’t hostile territory. Its home. And Sentinel Jorron has always provided good counsel for my father, and Maester Olan has always served this family faithfully, and besides my parents, there is no-one back home I trust more._

_Speaking of people I trust though……………………………………._

He saw the shy Frey squire walk through the tents, his head down as usual and seemingly pacing quickly towards the keep.

 

_Probably summoned, as well as all the Freys._

 

“Harlow! Over here son!”

Harlow Frey, a boy with long light brown hair, a milky chin and no older then fourteen, seemed to freeze when the Riverlander from Wycombe called him, and he slowly turned towards him.

 

_The poor boy is redder than a tomato._

 

“Hello, m’lord” the Frey said, no more than a whisper.

“Don’t give me that M’lord bullshit son, we’re celebrating! But now that we’re here anyways, can I speak to you privately?”

The boy seemed to turn even redder (as if that was possible.)  when he asked this. “I…………well……………….” he muttered before looking back at his kind eyes.

“Sure, m’lord”

 

 

 

They walked to a couple of trees not very far away from the tents, yet remotely enough so no-one could disturb them.

It was the Frey, surprisingly, who spoke first.

“Are you enjoying the wedding m’lord?”

“Jajor” he corrected. “Just call me Jajor son.” He scratched his head before replying to his question.

“I am enjoying myself very much thank you, as I think everyone here is! Being with friends, drinking good wine and having good conversations makes you enjoy certain things in life, don’t you agree?”

“I suppose M………….” he started before apologizingly looking towards him.  “I suppose Jajor”

Jajor laughed. “Listen lad, call me whatever you want, as long as you are comfortable with it, I could care less what you call me okay?”

“Yes, Jajor.” The Frey muttered.

 _Still so very nervous._ “Listen, the reason I wanted to speak with you isn’t because I wanted to discuss the feast with you, gods know you hate them.” He said before smiling at the squire again.

“I wanted to speak with you because I have a proposition for you” he said.

The squire looked nervously back at him, his brown hair hanging a bit in front of his eyes.

“I know you don’t like squiring, and I know for a fact you certainly don’t like being here at the Twins. Don’t be scared son, you can trust me. Just between us two, if it weren’t for the wedding right now, I wouldn’t like it one bit either.”

He couldn’t help but notice that the squire gulped hard, a bit too hard for his opinion.

“Anyways, during the battles we’ve fought you’ve saved my hide too many times to count with that cheeky crossbow of yours”

 

  _Not even bit of flattery can bring a smile to his face._

 

_Must be having a bad day._

 

“It’s long overdue that I repay the favour”

The Frey boy started. “M’Lo- “

“Harlow Frey of House Frey, once this war is over I would be honoured if you would follow me back to my keep, Balance’s Reach, and you would do me a great honour if you would sit on my council, to help me rule House Tradesfair” He says while putting both of his hands on the now shaking boy’s shoulders. “It’s the least I can do son, don’t worry”.

Harlow was shaking as if he had spent 5 moons sleeping in the snow and survived, and Jajor could see that were tears forming in his eyes.

 

_I actually might be the only person who has ever spoken to him as an equal, not a squire or a bargaining chip no, as an equal._

 

“My lord I’m- not worthy and-…………………”

“I can think of none worthier. Don’t think I haven’t thought long and hard about this lad, and I have never been more certain. You’ve earned this Harlow, and I would be honoured if you would accept my offer.”

The boy started to cry in earnest now, his whole body shaking and huge tears falling from his chubby cheeks. Jajor was stunned by the boy’s sudden outburst of emotion, and he just lightly embraced the crying squire.

_Easy little brother, It’s okay._

“Shush lad, It’s okay. As I said, it’s the least I can do. You’ve earned this, and you deserve at least some peace when all this is over.”

At those last five words of Jajor, Harlow abruptly pushed Jajor away and turned away from him, sinking to his knees, crying even harder now.

_But I thought he hated it here?_

He then lowered himself beside the squire, trying to comfort the crying boy once again.

“You don’t have to leave here you know, I just thought that you would have liked to be away from here. You told me yourself that you dreamed of being away from the Twins, and I thought- “

“It’s not that” were the only words the boy could get out of his mouth at that moment, before continuing to cry even louder now.

“Than what is it?” Jajor asked friendly, while the boy looked up to him, staring at him with those watery eyes.

“You can trust me, you can tell me anything, let me help you.”

These words seemed to break the Frey’s resolve completely, leaning his face inside his arms and started crying once again.

**“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry! I should have warned you, but now it’s too late! Everything is going to go to shit now once they play that song, just because I didn’t tell anyone!”**

The boy almost screamed these words, and leaned against Jajor, still crying, still shaking.

Jajor almost seemed to freeze at the boy’s words.

_What the fuck is he talking about? What the fuck is going on?_

“What are you talking about?” Jajor tried to ask as calm as possible. “Harlow!” he said demanding. “Tell me what’s going on! Now!”

He didn’t want to sound so cruel, but he had to know.

_Something is wrong here. Something is very fucking wrong here._

**“I’m sorry M’lord, im so so- “**

**“HARLOW! TELL. ME. WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS. GOING. ON!”**

He said these words slowly, but there was no hint of calm in these words. Aggression, only aggression in these words, desperate to know the truth of what the boy meant.

The boy finally seemed to come to his senses.

  _Just talk._

“Lord Walder Frey………………………………. Has been corresponding with Tywin Lannister ever since he called back his levies here”.

Jajor felt as if a hand slowly closed around his throat.

_Ever since King Robb married the nurse from Volantis._

_There is only one reason why the boy could be so upset at an occasion such as this._

_Gods……………._

 

“Continue” he tried to say as calm as possible, but he knew his voice was a wreck now.

 

_You already know what the Late Walder Frey is going to do, don’t you Jajor?_

 

“Lord Walder Frey…………………. Was insulted he heard King Robb wouldn’t take lady Roslin as his wife.” The boy seemingly seemed to whisper, still shaking.

_Furious would be the better word to describe it._

“He told us what he……. What we would do when we heard The Northern army was marching back here. He said…………..”

The boy paused, seemingly not believing his own words, and continued crying when he found his voice again.

“He said that we could not let this insult, _this defilation of our house go unpunished. We will punish this boy for his crimes against us. Tywin Lannister has told me that if we do our duty to the crown, we shall be rewarded. And we shall._

Jajor just sat beside the boy, feeling absolutely nothing anymore. _Yeah, that’s Walder Frey all right._

“Who else is in on it?” were the words he managed to get out of his throat.

“Lord Bolton. Lord Walder Frey has told us that if Roose Bolton himself would stab King Robb through the heart, he would become Warden of the North, until a son is born to Tyrion Lannister and Sansa Stark.”

_Of course it would be Bolton, King Robb has straight up ignored any suggestion the Bolton gave him, with the exception of having his bastard retake Winterfell._

_Damn them all._

_Damn them fucking all._

“I assume a combined force of Frey and Bolton will also slaughter any man outside of the Twins?”

The boy nodded sadly. “Yes, with the exception of some sons of highborn lords.”

_For ransom of fucking course._

Jajor threw his head inside his hands.

 

_It’s over._

_All fucking over._

 

“When will they start?”

 

The boy turned his face to the ground.

“They will begin when the musicians start playing a certain song. The Rains of Castamere.”

_The song about the butchering of a family. No doubt Tywin Lannister had suggested it._

_Fucking hilarious Lannister, truly._

 

Jajor threw up his head back at the boy.

“Leave.”

“M’Lo- “

 

 

“I said leave,” He knows it’s not the boy that wanted this, he knows he will take no part in the massacre and he knows that the massacre will scar him for life.

_But I don’t care._

“Go on, you should have been back in the castle by now huh?”.

His words are like daggers, and every syllable is a drop of poison.

“I’m- “

“Sorry, as you told me for the hundredth fucking time. Save me your apologies. I don’t need them, and all the men and women who are about to meet their gods CERTAINLY don’t need them.”

“Because even if you don’t partake in the butchering, your decision to keep your mouth shut and not warning anyone about this, you might as well join the Freys. The blood of every man and woman will be on YOUR hands anyways.

He turns away from the boy and starts walking, knowing the boy he’s leaving behind is now an emotional wreck.

He turns around once more.

“King Robb trusted you, **all of you!** Everyone was telling him that going to this wedding was a bad idea! His direwolf resented every Frey on arrival, yet he trusted you. His own mother told him to listen to his wolf’s instincts, yet he trusted you! Hell, **I TOLD HIM THAT EVEN BEING HERE WAS A BAD IDEA!”**

“And you know what he did? He defended you. The honourable King Robb defended you all! He refused to hear even the slightest bit of an insult of you all!  And this is how you repay him? A dagger through his heart? Truly, I hope whatever the old lion offered you all is fucking worth it, because after this day, nobody will ever say the word Frey again without having to be disciplined for using such a foul and treacherous word.”

And he started walking.

_FUCK!_

Before he could think about what the hell he was going to do now though, the boy was calling out to him, running towards him again.

“ **WAIT! STOP, PLEASE!”**

He stopped.

_What the fuck does he want now?_

He turned towards the boy.

**“I swear, if you called me back to say sorry one more time, I will murder you right- “**

“ **It’s not that!”** the boy said for the second time this night.

“Than what the fuck is it huh?”

This time, the boy did not evade his stare. Instead, he faces it, with something with a glimpse of determination in his teary eyes.

“You’re right, I will have to live with the fact that I didn’t tell anyone, and so will my relatives! I know it will be haunting us for the rest of our lives! And yeah, after this night, there will be no family who will ever look at us again without having to hide their disdain for us.”

_Told you._

The boy paused.

“But I think I can at least do one good thing before my name is befiled after this night.”

_Huh?_

“What are you-“ Jajor started, but was interrupted.

 

 

“Do you want to save your King?”

 

“What?”

_How many times can I be surprised this night?_

“Do you?”

“Well……. Yeah of course! But I don’t see how- “

“Then follow me.” The boy said as he was heading back for the tents.

For a moment Jajor hesitated.

 

_What if this is a trap? What if he’s leading me to my death, to prevent me from leaving, to prevent me from surviving this?_

But Jajor started following the boy.

_No._

_If he wanted me to die he could have just kept his mouth shut. I would have never seen it coming. No-one will expect and has expected this._

_But I have bled beside this boy, and he is not his family._

_I’m sure of it._

_Am I?_

They were passing the tents now. Jajor wanted to warn them, wanted to scream _RUN! RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN!_

 

 

But it was too late for that now.

 

_Far too late._

He saw the Forrester men, Lord Gregor and his men having a toast (To Robb Stark, The King in the North!) and quickened his pace in hope that they would not see him.

_I’m so, so sorry brothers, but you can’t be saved. Not anymore._

They were not far away from the twins now, passing two squires who were holding caskets which were most likely meant for wine, laughing towards each other.

_The night has been one of the warmer ones this summer, yet I have never felt so cold._

 

 

Just when Jajor thought they were heading straight into the keep, they took a sharp turn to the right side of the keep.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

Harlow only gave him a look that almost seemed to say _please just stay quiet._

So he did.

They walked for a while, all while Jajor was just hoping that that cursed song would not be played yet.

_Not yet please. Not now._

They arrived at the lowest part of the bridge just by the water. It was so dark he would wonder if anyone could see them.

 

_So what now?_

The boy seemed to look around, almost as if he was searching for something, and started touching the walls.

The seconds that passed seemed to last an eternity, and Jajor just felt his anger steadily building up.

_What could have been expected from a Frey?_

_Some Frey men will appear any minute now, laughing at my idiocy, and will put a sword through my back._

“This must be really funny for you Frey.” He started reaching for his dagger, hidden underneath his tunic. “But if you think im going to laugh with you than- “

 

 

 

The boy seemed to press against a certain stone, and in a moment, stones not far away from lowered into the floor, revealing a dark, dark entrance.

 

 

 

“What the-“ Jajor started.

“It leads to the wine cellars. The door to get in the cellar, or out in this case, is never locked. Normally someone stands guard at the door, but I think Walder Frey has need for all of his men now.” He said, answering almost every question he wanted to ask the boy.

 

 

Seconds passed, before Jajor finally spoke again, having found his voice after seeing something so unexpected.

 

“Anything else you want to tell me?” he asked the boy alas.

 

The boy nodded: “If you can find the kitchens, there is a hidden door just behind the table meant for flaying the animals, it leads to the head table.

 

_Just behind Walder frey._

 

“It’s small, but I suppose if five playing kids can hide in it from their furious lord father, then a tall Riverlander like yourself will have no trouble getting through it.”

Jajor didn’t laugh at the jape, he just continued to stare into the black hole of a door.

 

“Why did you-“

“Tell me this?”.

The boy smiled. “As I said before, I wanted to do at least some good before my whole name is slandered. This seemed to be the best way, I suppose.”

Jajor wanted to respond, but the boy spoke up yet again.

“I should have told you sooner, I know. I should have told anyone sooner, but I couldn’t. I was scared, and because I acted like a craven, men will die. I know it. Don’t thank me for it, please don’t.”

The boy paused.

“Just save your king.”

Jajor sat still for a while.

Then he nodded slightly.

“I need to go now.” The boy said. “I need to be in the hall before…………..”

The boy’s voice just died off.

_Before it happens._

Jajor nodded.

“Good luck.” The boy said, then he ran off, back towards the keep.

 

Jajor kept facing the darkness in front of him, while his mind was processing all this in top speed.

_I don’t have to do this._

_I can make for my horse, ride back to Wycombe and convince father to just swear allegiance to the Lannisters.  With a bit of luck, we’ll be able to live out the rest of our lives peacefully._

_Perhaps we’ll even be rewarded._

_No._

_That’s not me._

_That might be what a turncloak would do, what a Walder Frey, Theon Greyjoy or a Roose Bolton would do, but I would never stoop that low._

_I will remain loyal to my King._

_But at what cost?_

Jajor felt tears prickling in his eyes once again.

_If I go into that hall, everyone will know my name, Roose Bolton has seen my face and heard my voice before.  They won’t forget House Tradesfair._

_And the Lannisters most certainly will not forget the name._

_No, they will not._

Jajor simply put his right hand over his eyes, comprehending what would happen if he would save his King.

_They’ll be murdered._

_Butchered._

_Balance’s Reach burned to the ground, and all inhabitants will be murdered, if they are lucky it’ll be quick._

_If not………………._

_Then they all await the same fate as House Reyne._

_Including father and mother._

_Perhaps Ruby will be even dragged away from Dorne._

_Gods……………………_

He suddenly realised that when he had reached for his dagger against Harlow, that he actually was holding the dagger in his hand now.

He realised he never fully appreciated the dagger’s beauty.

A small dagger, made of Valyrian steel, and its hilt touched by dragonfire, with the bottom of the hilt adorning the sigil of his house: A silver scale, with gold on the right side and wheat on the left.

 _You give me, I give you,_ Jajor suddenly thought, remembering his house’s words.

He also remembered his father’s words when his father gave him the dagger, before Jajor headed North to join up with the Northern army.

_“And remember,” his father had said, “When the time comes, you must do what you believe is right.”_

_I so wish you hadn’t said that father._

 

He suddenly heard the musicians play a slow melody with their violins, starting the song that would shape this night.

_The signal for the end._

Jajor looked at his dagger, and then he kissed the hilt.

_Father, Mother, Ruby, Forresters, Northerners and Rivermen, Family, Brothers, Friends, forgive me for what I’m about to do, but I need to do this._

 

Jajor threw one more glimpse towards the water, showing his reflection, showing the boy of eighteen summers with long, filthy dark brown hair that almost fell in front of his eyes, his light-blue eyes, and finally looking at his chin, his unshaved and dirty chin.

 

 

_I must do what I believe is right._

Then he jumped into the cellar.


	2. Arys

“Please Ser Arys, we’ve been riding all day, can’t we just rest for a bit and just drink some water?”

_She’s right, when I came to get her the sun had not even risen yet, and now it has disappeared out of sight yet again._

_Though the faster we’re out of this desert, the better._

_Still, a break can’t hurt can it?_

“I suppose we can stop for a while Princess, it’s the very least I owe you I suppose, some rest.” He said while leading the horses towards the first bit of shadow he saw, a couple of trees near a dried out oasis.

They dismounted from their horses as Arys reached for the large bottle of water and handed it to Princess Myrcella, from which she drank eagerly from “Easy though, we still have a long way to-“ but she already handed the bottle back again.

Arys could have sworn it was about the same weight as when he gave it to her.

_Arianne is right you know, she would make fine ruler, a fair and kind ruler._

A shiver went down his spine when he even thought of it.

_No, there are two reasons why I’m getting the Princess out of here, away from Dorne._

_That woman is the first._

_And her motivations the second._

_Well, there is a third one, the mayor one, but-_

He then realised he had been smiling like an idiot long enough for it to be awkward, and the Princess looked like she was very confused at his smile.

So he took the bottle from her hands, drank himself ( _Not more than her, gods be good_ ) and sat down against one of the trees, wiping away the sweat from his sweaty forehead.

“Ser Arys?” he heard her ask.

“Yes, my Princess?” he replied as he turned his head towards her.

She seemed to hesitate about what she was about to say, for she started moving her golden hairs rather uncomfortably, before she returned her face towards him, those green eyes staring questioning at him.

_“She has her mother’s beauty”, he had heard Lord Tyrion say one time, “and none of her character.”_

_How true that statement proved to be._

“Why did we really leave?”

_Well she’s clearly smarter than her._

“Beg your pardon Princess?” he replies, trying to throw the girl off-guard, but it’s a pathetic attempt, and she doesn’t fall for it.

“Why did we leave, Ser Arys?” These words being said at a demanding tone, almost angry. “I mean, you’ve asked me to trust you when we left Sunspear, that it was no longer safe there. Well, I trusted you then, and I left with you, but I at least want some answers. After all,” she shows a sad smile while uttering these words, seemingly cooled down as well now, “it was never safe there for me,  was it?”

_As I said, way smarter than her mother._

_Though it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Sunspear is anything but safe for a little girl, for a Baratheon, with blood-ties to a Lannister._

_And the snakes never liked these two families, not after Robert’s Rebellion._

He smirks.

“I suppose I have to tell you, don’t I Princess?” he says, still a bit hesitant.

She simply nods.

He sighs.

_Well, here goes._

“Before I tell you anything about why we left there Princess, you need to know…………….”

He stops, but doesn’t pause for too long, and reluctantly continues.

“You need to know that Princess Arianne and I-“ he says before she interrupts him.

“I know Ser Arys.” She smiles.

“I know.”

He is taken aback when she says this, though he is a bit relieved he doesn’t have to go into the details with her.

_Because this whole conversation hasn’t been awkward already Arys?_

“You know? But-“ he says to her before she interrupts him yet again.

“How?” She giggles. “Please Ser Arys, I have seen the way you look at her when we are eating, or walking, or riding, or even when we are-“

“Okay, you know, I get it!” having his turn to finally interrupt her for once, having himself filled with joy for a brief moment.

Then he is filled with shame once again when he realises he isn’t supposed to be with any woman.

“Right, some Kingsguard I must be huh?” he says shamefully, turning his head away from her now.

Even though he doesn’t see her face, he just feels her eyes widen at these words, and he also feels her turning her mouth into a grin.

“Are you kidding Ser Arys?”

_Still being as politely as ever._

He turns to face her now, surprised once more.

“My brother” she says this last word with a clear hint of disgust, “has someone like Meryn Trant guarding him, and you expect me to be disgusted with you being in love with someone?” She smiles, and shakes her head slightly.

“Ser Arys, you have more honour than any member of the Kingsguard that I know combined, the fact that you love someone doesn’t change that.”

_Always seeing the best in people, even though sometimes they don’t deserve it._

“Though about what I just said, about you loving her,” she saddens when telling him this, “I can’t help but notice you don’t look at her with love anymore, not even with passion, only-”

“Sadness” he finishes for her, now also having a sad smile displayed on his face.

“Yes” she says.

They are both silent for quite some time, with only the sound of the wind lightly blowing against the sands breaking the silence.

“Even though you’re ‘relation’ with Arianne isn’t the best, I assume,” she pauses yet again.

“That isn’t the reason why you made all this trouble to get me away from Sunspear, right?”

This sentence not sounding like a question at all.

It’s an observation.

“No, sweet Princess, that is definitely not the reason why we left.” He responds, with a sad undertone to his voice.

“Though Arianne definitely has something to do with it though.” He says, before losing himself into the memory of that godforsaken conversation he had with Arianne, just over a week ago.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_He slowly turned awake to sunlight grazing his eyes._

_He didn’t want to open his eyes though; he didn’t want to be faced with that mixed feeling of shame and happiness, the one much stronger than the other._

_No, he definitely didn’t want to open his eyes._

_But he had to, didn’t he?_

_He slowly opened his eyes, seeing the sun graze through the chamber, leaving parts of light to behold. He also became more aware of the soft, soft pillow he was resting his head upon._

_It happened again, were the first thoughts to come across his mind._

_It happened again._

_He had sworn it would not happen again, he had sworn he would not give into temptation again._

_Yet he did._

_He had broken his vows once again, and for what? Another night of warmth with a woman he thinks he loves, what makes all this all the worse._

_Doing this is one thing, however actually loving her……….., he thought, before realising something._

_Where is she?,   he thinks, before finally looking around him._

_He didn’t have to search the room with his eyes, for he saw her sitting at the foot end the bed, now wearing a simple white cloth she wore last night before they………………._

_Well………._

_Before they did it, before he had torn it of her and they had made love in this bed._

_Before we fucked in this bed more like, I’m still not even sure what she truly feels about me, he thinks, before sighing, maybe a little bit too loud, for Arianne turns around at once, revealing her face at last._

_Still such a beauty, Is the thought that goes through his head, before he notices the jewels adorning her forehead, and realising that she must have been awake for quite some time._

_She stares at him curiously, and her eyes betray her for a very brief moment._

_She wants something, he thinks, but he knows better than to expect that she will outright admit this to him._

_This is a Martell we are talking about._

_Instead she smiles sweetly. “You’re awake” she says, and her grin grows wider at once. “See something you like Ser Arys?” she says mockingly, and only then Arys realises that he must have been staring at her for quite some time now. Arys smiles sadly at her in reply, as Arianne seems to notice the sadness in his smile, as she lays beside him once again, putting the fingertips of her right hand on his broad chest._

_“What, did I not satisfy you last night my Knight?” she asks teasingly. “You seemed to enjoy it rather much.” She continues, and he can’t help but let out a small chuckle._

_“You know it’s not that.” He says rather happily, yet once these words are said, he turns his head away from her, before she tenderly takes his cheek into her hand and turns it back towards her._

_“Then what is it?” she asks sweetly, though he notices the slightest hint of demand in her voice._

_“Just thinking about something.” He says as vague as possible, hoping she will not press the matter._

_But he knows she always gets what she wants, and he has experienced first-hand how she gets it._

_And now I’m going to experience it yet again, he thinks when she moves on top of him, her soft hand never leaving his cheek in the process._

_At least that’s what he thinks, but she is going to press the matter differently this time, he realises as he looks into her eyes._

_He knows she’s going to use her wits instead of her body, and that’s exactly what Arys had been wanting to avoid._

_For she is all the more dangerous when she uses her mind._

_“Ahh, I see” she says teasingly. “You’re thinking about another, aren’t you my romantic knight?” she continues, and Arys suddenly notices something in her eyes, something primal, something he can’t quite understand what it is, so instead he tries to compare it to something._

_Like a snake eying up a helpless mouse, waiting for the perfect moment to lash out and inject it with its venom, he thinks, and the longer he looks into those eyes, the more convinced he becomes of his comparison._

_“As I said before, you know it’s not that” he says, finally breaking the silence he had created for taking so long to react to her, and he lowers his head into his pillow once more._

_She takes this as an invitation to lay her head onto his chest, her right hand placed right beside her head, and she reaches her left hand out to his long brown hair, and she starts playing with it, this causing him to incline his head towards her as they are face to face once again._

_She does not let him escape her gaze though, and he realises that the snake is considering to strike now, or to wait a bit longer for a better moment._

_She turns her head slightly, and widens her eyes mockingly towards him. “Are you certain?” she says, again with a voice that mocks him. “Are you certain that you’re thinking about another woman, that you’re not off to bed someone else? Tell me who she is. I will fight her for you, in this very cloth, knife to knife._ _Unless she is a Sand Snake. If so, we can share you. I love my cousins well.”_

_He sighs. “You know I have no other woman. Only…….. duty.” He says after having paused briefly._

_She laughs.  Wickedly, mockingly, sinfully, perhaps these three combined, he thinks._

_“Oh, That poxy bitch? I know her. Dry as dust between the legs, and her kisses leave you bleeding.” She says finally._

_“Arianne please-“ he starts, but she interrupts him furiously._

_“What? You know I’m right. You’re throwing everything we have away (“Certain bout that Arianne?”) and for what? Duty you say? We’re living in a world where men who kill kids are pardoned and even rewarded and you’re concerned about breaking a vow that means nothing anymore?”_

_He is surprised by her sudden aggression, but he doesn’t let that show on his face, nor does he interrupt her. So he continues to listen._

_“Men do terrible things everyday Arys, what we have is not a sin. Far from it, it’s a blessing.”_

_He tries to keep his face as bland as possible, but it’s the last word Arianne says that turns his face into a state of confusion._

_Normally she wouldn’t say what we have is a blessing, he thinks._

_Now I’m certain she wants something, he realises, and it looks like the snake has found its ideal moment to strike, he concludes._

_Okay Arianne, I’ll play along._

_He sighs again, loudly this time. “What I’ve been trying to say all this time is that it’s not right, I want it to be, but it’s not right. “he concludes. _

_“And what if it would be?” she says suddenly, and Arys realises the snake has realised its teeth into her prey, and now it’s only a matter of time before she releases her venom._

_“What do you mean? Don’t tell me you intend to change the vows of the Kingsguard.” He says mockingly, but her answer manages to throw him of guard yet again._

_“Yes actually, and I’ll tell you all about it if you’ll shut up and listen you dumb oaf!” she says, again rather furiously. “I’ll tell you everything if you just be discreet about it, understood?” she snaps again._

_“I suppose I don’t have much of a choice do I? he says, using his hands to indicate towards her that she’s still lying on top of him._

_“No, you don’t, so just listen.” She says more calmly now, but still a bit aggressive._

_Arys still can’t comprehend her sudden mood swing, normally she’s teasing and seductive to him, but now she shows such furiosity, such passion!_

_Which is attractive in its own way I suppose, he thinks, maybe even more so, before realising that is exactly what she wants, to appear even more appealing, to make him do anything for her._

_And if I wasn’t a sworn brother of the Kingsguard, I would._

_But I am._

_Still, listening to her couldn’t put him in that much danger, could it?_

_She finally speaks again, her voice calm once more._

_“If you’ve heard the rumours from Kings Landing, the people are ready to rip their King apart. Stannis may have been repelled, but everyone knows that the old lion saved the city, and the smartest inhabitants even know it was the Imp who actually saved the city.”_

_He wants to say their real names, especially the name of the one mentioned the second, but she lets him continue._

_“Even with the new betrothal of the King and the Flower girl, and as beloved as she is in that city, the people still hate their king. You know it’s only a matter of time before another riot breaks out and he is killed, or poisoned, or he gets a hunting accident like the King before him, or-“_

_“All right, I get it! Everyone hates King Joffrey! And granted, his reign may not last much longer, even though I should be ensuring it should!” he fumes at her, furious now that she just disrespects his vows like that.  I may not like him very much, but he’s still my king, he thinks, and I swore a vow to protect the king._

_“Nevertheless” he admits. “It may indeed not last much longer, but then what, what are you getting at?”_

_“What I’m getting at is that If there is going to be a new ruler, that we stand on the right side! That we’re ready! Just think about it! The new ruler would he very grateful for being so helpful, and we’ll be rewarded! Your vows could be changed, and we could even marry if that’s what you want!”_

_Arys is stunned for a very brief moment, then he feels anger overtake him._

_“You’ve surprised me time and time again ever since I first arrived here Arianne, but I never expected you to be this stupid. All I heard about on my way here was the legendary cunning of the Martells, and here you are, proving that statement to be o so wrong, with this kind of plan. This plan is deceitful, its greedy, its overly ambitious but above all, it’s incredibly stupid.”_

_He lifts her off of him, and he finally rises for the first time this day._

_“And seven hells Arianne, instead of saying ‘the ruler’ over and over again, just say Tommen okay? The boy has a name.”_

_Even though he is turned away from her, he just feels her smile smiling behind him, and he knows it’s a mischievous one._

_“Who says I was talking about Tommen?” she says sinfully, as his minds starts processing this._

_If not Tommen, he thinks, then who is i-._

_“No.” he says, realising what she means. “This plan was stupid before, but if you actually think that you are going to make the Princess queen, then you are even dumber than I thought.”_

_“And you are even dumber than I thought if you don’t even think about it!” she says, while turning him back towards her, which he lets her do way too easily.  “Just think, the people have been literally dying for a better ruler, after these two Baratheon mistakes, no offense to our sweet, sweet princess, and she has every quality of a good ruler: She’s Kind, She’s Diligent and more importantly, she’s wise! She isn’t so stupid to execute someone for doing the right thing, and of all people, you should be the one to realise this!” _

_Even after her parade of words, she doesn’t even seem the slightest bit breathless._

_Arys starts to curse himself after her words, not for thinking how he could have fallen in love with such an ambitious woman, o no._

_He curses himself for realising that the words she spoke have made sense, for every trait she has named of Princess Myrcella, he can’t help but to agree with her._

_“Okay.” He says, suddenly realising something, “But there is one thing I still need to know. Let’s say I do help you, and I do support you’re overly ambitious scheme: The reasons you’ve named before, that we can marry and that the people finally get a good ruler, those are defiantly not the reasons why you want this to happen, at least there not the main ones, so what is the main reason?”_

_She smiles, showing her perfect white teeth. “What, you don’t believe that I just want to do the right thing?” she says sarcastically. “That I truly want to marry you?” she concludes._

_He raises his brows and inclines his head slightly, his face showing that he does not believe her for a second._

_She laughs. “You know, before we had this discussion, I actually thought you were as dumb as you looked.” She shrugs. “I suppose it’s nice to be wrong for a change” she concludes, before taking a huge breath._

_“You have been in Dorne for a while now Arys, so you know how the people feel about the current state of affairs: They want blood, they have never truly forgotten the crimes both Baratheon and Lannister have inflicted upon them, and they want revenge. Seeing as I’m also a Dornishwoman” she continues, “I also want revenge for what they did to our Princess Elia, what they did to her children. The North can say that they remember all right, but we definitely do too” she concludes, as Arys notices something that something changed in her eyes during this speech of hers._

_This she truly means, he thinks, her eyes don’t lie, you can’t fake such determination._

_He wants to wrap his arms around her, he wants to say that he’ll help her, that he’ll fight her wars for her if she only says so, but then the thought of his vows pop back into his mind, and he has to restrain himself from doing just that._

_I can’t do that, he thinks._

_Not yet at least._

_“Just one more thing I need to know. Let’s say I do support your little scheme, which at this point I highly doubt I will” he said, trying to turn the conversation back into his favour, but failing miserably. “You said yourself that Dorne has no love for both Baratheons and Lannisters; Myrcella has the blood of both of these, and you expect the people to simply rise for her?”_

_“They will if she would have a Dornish King, insert Trystane. And if she would have a Dornish counsil, enter me and a few of supporters of this plan. Also, she has won over everyone here at court, including my cousins. Trust me, if you can win over a Sand Snake with her blood, then you can win over the people of Dorne.” She says, and he can’t help but to agree with her, as she puts her fingers on his cheek._

_“So what do you say, my sweet knight? Will you help me with my, in your words, overly ambitious scheme?” she says at last._

_He wants to say no, to yell that he has never disagreed more, that they are done, but he can’t._

_Because whether he wants to or not, whether he has vows or not, he still loves her._

So he nods.

_“Good” she grins, as she pushes him back onto his back and sits on top of him yet again._

_“Now I think that your obedience to me should be rewarded, don’t you agree?” she says teasingly, before she presses her lips against his._

_Vows be damned he thinks, and he returns the kiss._

_He awakes to the sound of someone closing the door, and he realises she has just left the room._

_It was a soft noise, but it had awoken him regardless, for a member of the Kingsguard must always be vigilant. I may be a terrible member of the Kingsguard, he thinks, but I’m still one of them._

_Shamefully, he thinks how he has broken his vows yet again._

_He puts his back against the wood at the head of the bed, and he starts thinking._

_He thinks long and hard before he comes to a conclusion._

_This needs to end, he thinks._

_It needs to end now, while I still have some determination to end it, before I succumb to her touch again._

_He rises from his bed, collects his clothes from across the room, and he makes his way out of the room, carefully closing the door behind him._

_He knows where she has gone, to the one place everyone would go if they would go on a stroll._

_The gardens._

_He only now realises it’s just past mid-day, for the sun is about to go down again._

_Arys couldn’t help but to think how productive he had been this day, before he quickly corrects himself and tells himself to be serious._

_He wonders what he’s actually going to say to Arianne as he is approaching the gardens now, should he be direct? Or should he handle it diff-_

_“…tain he will help us?” he hears a high female voice say, and he realises that is definitely not Arianne’s voice._

_“He will, didn’t take long to convince him though, sure it took more effort than I expected, but he agreed in the end, didn’t he?”_

_That’s Arianne, he thinks, and continues to listen, even though he wants to interrupt them so badly because he’s part of the scheme now, isn’t he? But something in his gut tells him he just needs to listen and that he shouldn’t reveal his presence just yet._

_The other voice chuckles now. “I suppose I could have expected it, he looks at you if you are the Goddess of Beauty herself, and how long did it take to seduce him again?”_

_“Half a year, and yes, I noticed how he looks at me, how every man looks at me, but it’s getting quite embarrassing now to be fair, for him I mean.” She says mockingly, and Arys feels his insides turn to ice when these words are uttered. _

_The other voice chuckles again. “Oh, that’s cruel Arianne” the voice says, before Arianne lets out a laugh._

_“What? I suppose he’s pleasant enough in bed, but me loving him? As I said, it’s becoming really embarrassing for him now. Still, the fact that he’s so madly in love with me only works in our benefit, as he was convinced enough to help me, tool that he is.” She says._

_Arys has heard enough, and he wants to walk right in and interrupt them, to tell them that Arianne does not need to worry herself anymore that he will embarrass himself._

_He is about to walk in, but the next words of the other voice freezes him in his tracks._

_“Changing the subject though Arianne, are you certain it’s wise to involve the Darkstar in this? He’s been here at court for a few days now, and the few times he has seen the Princess he looks like he wants to murder her on the spot. He wants to go to war Arianne, and he thinks that’s the best way to get his war.”_

_“Darkstar? If we can keep him in check he could prove to be an invaluable ally: His skill with the sword is unrivalled, and besides, we only need to keep him in check until she is crowned, afterwards we can get rid of him, one way or another.”_

_ “I don’t think Darkstar is going to wait that long Arianne.”  _

_“Then let’s hope the current king dies soon, for then at least his focus will be shifted.”_

_He hears her mention something about a certain type of tea towards the other woman, but he is already making his way back to his room by then._

_He pulls of his clothes, throws them across the room and he falls onto his bed, flat on his back._

_When he finally lies, he puts his face into his hands._

_How could I have been so blind, he thinks._

_So easily seduced by that woman, that I turned I blind eye to everything obvious._

_She doesn’t love me._

_She never has._

_This shock, though a cruel one, isn’t as harsh as he expected, for he has a reason now to break it up and not feel conflicted anymore right?_

_No._

_The true shock lies within the words of that other woman._

_Darkstar._

_Darkstar means to kill Myrcella, and it sounded like he didn’t intend on waiting much longer._

_Arys realised he had to do something._

_I may be quite possibly be the most undeserving member of the Kingsguard ever, but this is my chance to redeem myself._

_I’m going to get her out of here, maybe even out of Westeros if I have to._

_I may have failed as a Kingsguard, and disrespected my vows as a member of that order._

_But I haven’t failed as a sworn shield yet._

_And I will not fail her._

_I swear it._

So now he had told her everything.

Everything.

She would most likely call him mad, call him an idiot and demand her to take her back to Sunspear.

But she only inclined her head slightly, and sighed.

“Ser Arys?”

“Yes Princess?”

She takes a deep breath.

“Are you certain it had become that dangerous for me in Sunspear?” she just says.

He stares at the sands around them for a long time before meeting her eyes again.

Then he nods.

She turns her head back towards the horses.

 

 

“Then we have no time to waste, have we?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The moon is at its highest when Arys finally sees the little pond he intended to cross with her.

The voyage had been smooth, he supposed, which was exactly the reason why had had told her to dismount.

_It’s too easy, they should have noticed by now that we’re gone._

“Come Princess, just listen to me, my horse is a lot faster than the one you are riding right now, which will be really useful, in case…………………” but he can’t even finish his sentence.

“It goes wrong?” she finishes for him. “Then what about you Ser Arys?”

He smiles at her. “I have one reason for you why I’ll be fine without my horse princess” as he clamps the hilt of his sword even tighter now.

She smiles sadly.

 

“It won’t come to that, will it? We’ve made it so far without any problems, surely we’ll be all right?”

He wants to comfort her, to tell her it’s all safe now.

But you never know, especially in Dorne.

“I don’t know princess, just stay alert.”

He realises that, when they’ve walked onto the square, that it’s awfully quiet.

_The square of the pond has always been flooded with people ever since the traders here got their permission to trade freely, no matter with whom._

And at that moment of time Arys realises that it all won’t be all right.

He turns to her at once, him dismounted and her looking around herself, mounted on his horse.

_She hasn’t got a clue has she?_

“Princess listen to me, and listen well, understood?” he says, but before he lets her interrupt him, he continues. “If I say ride, you ride okay? Even if that means leaving me behind, you will ride! Understood?”

“Ser Arys what-“

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND PRINCESS?” he almost yells, panic overtaking his voice now.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!_

“It won’t come to that Ser Arys!” she yells at him, and just when she screams that, he hears the unsheathing of many, many blades, and he sees lots of armed men walk onto the square, and Arys the only sounds Arys hears now are the remainder of the townsfolk hastily fleeing the scene.

The princess looks terrified, and Arys tries to judge the situation as calmly as he can in all the chaos, but the only thing he can make out of this chaos is that there are at least ten of them.

 

 

 

 

“Yes Ser Arys, tell her it won’t come to that” a voice says, thick with sarcasm, and Arys feels his blood turn to ice at once.

Arys turns himself around, and he sees a man with thick, silver hair, with a face that’s half hatred and half amusement.

_Darkstar._

“Stay back, all of you! If any of you comes any closer, then I’ll-“

“Do what Oakheart, break your vows again? Some Kingsguard you turned out to be, when the only time you’ll poke someone with your sword is under some sheets! Am I wrong, _sweet knight?_ ”

He wants to charge at him for using Arianne’s words against him, to gawk him into doing something stupid, but Arys just manages to keep his ground, while the other men laugh loudly, mocking him.

_No, I need to keep the princess safe._

“Still, I suppose you have done me a huge favour Arys” the Darkstar says as he unsheathes his sword. “Because now I can at least gutter the Lannister bitch and-“

“YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING!” and everyone turns their attention to the source of the sound.

_Arianne._

_She’s here._

Everyone is silent as she dismounts and makes her way towards the Darkstar, and no-one dares to speak as she stands beside him, waiting for her to speak.

“Myrcella, Arys, return with us and we’ll pretend this never happened! We can discuss everything when we’re on our way back to Sunspear!”

“Not if it’s up to me, we won’t!” Darkspear says aggressively. “They both die here Arianne, at least you’ll get your war!”

Arianne wants to protest, but the Darkstar is determined.

“MEN, KILL THEM BOTH!” and all hell breaks loose.

The first men goes straight for Arys, but Arys manages to dodge the thrust of the man’s sword and he pierces his throat before returning his attention back towards the other men.

Two more jump on him as well, and Arys is fighting for his life before he knows it, losing all focus on the world around him, though that there are seven more if he manages to kill these two, not even counting the Darksta-

_NO!_

He sees from the corner of his eyes that Arianne tries to stop him, but he pushes her away too easily, and Arianne falls towards the sands, as the Darkstar makes his way to the Princess now.

Princess Myrcella wants to flee, but the remaining guards block off all remaining escape routes: Across the shore, into the alleys of the square or back into the desert.

She can only sit there, helplessly, with her horse, his horse, clearly panciking, unsure what the hell it’s supposed to do.

“JUST ENSURE SHE CAN’T RUN, SHE’S MINE!”

Then everything goes very fast.

Arys, overtaken by some sort of fury now, parries the blow of one of his attackers, and opens up his stomach before his partner can interfere. He tries to hit Arys with a reckless slice in which a had to have putt all his might in, for he loses his balance when he misses Arys, who has managed to get behind him now as he thrusts his sword into his attackers back.

He then turns back towards the Princess, and his lungs almost close off because of what he sees.

Darkstar, swinging his sword towards Princess Myrcella.

He starts charging towards this monster, but he knows he’s too late, far too late, to stop him.

Myrcella manages to back away slightly, but she sword is already to close.

A flash of silver, followed by a flash of blood, turning the sands around her red, and that scream, that seems to make Arys cringe, to make his heart stop beating, to make him deaf to any other sound in the world.

Arys managed to graze the face of the Darkstar with his sword in his mad charge, who himself now also screams out in pain and falls to the ground, holding his hand at the just opened spot.

Arys looks behind him, and expects to see the Princess in the sands, dead, and her head surround by blood.

He looks, and what he sees scares him, yet gives him some hope as well.

For the princess was in an awful state, one half of her face completely covered in blood, and the blood was still dropping towards the sands.

Yet the princess was still alive, scarred for life yes, but alive, as she still managed to hold the reigns of her horse, though she looked like she could pass out any minute now.

Arys then remembered the words he had said to himself when he was determined to get her away from Dorne.

_But I haven’t failed as a sworn shield yet._

_And I will not fail her._

_I swear it._

And with these words in mind, Arys knew exactly what to do.

 

 

He hit the horse on its backside, hard, to which the horse cried out in response and lifted its front legs off the sands, and knew what the horse was going to do next.

And before the horse could sprint away, Arys dashed towards the guard blocking the way that led back to the dunes, a way that led to more Ponds, more opportunities to leave this place

It was sloppy and o so reckless, but Arys managed to trust his sword inside the guard and toss him to the side before the Horse sprinted past him back into the dunes.

With the Princess still on it.

Then, the expected pain he expected to happen happened, the pain of his back being opened by a sword.

It hurt, for god sakes it hurt for him, but he knew he had not failed her.

For when before his face finally met the sands, he saw the Princess disappear behind the dunes.

And that sight, with the thought that she would be gone from this desert soon enough, could only bring a smile on his face.

The sword was pulled out of his back, as a hand grabbed him by his head and the sword was placed across his neck.

But he knew he had redeemed himself.

Then it all went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was no easy one, that's for sure.  
> Sitting in my chair for hours, having no clue what to write in this chapter.  
> Then, because my PC decided to fuck me over, i lost about 2000 good words because i hadn't saved in some time.  
> So if the quality of this chapter drops after the flashback, i truly appologise.  
> Now it looks like the birds are singing again.  
> O would you look at that!  
> Five in the morning.  
> Great.  
> But yeah, thanks for reading.  
> Really, i appriciate it.


	3. Tyrion

He was just about to turn in when someone knocked on his door.

_Fucks sake._ “Come in” he called out reluctantly, and turned his head towards the door.

He had expected Shae, to perhaps offer some comforting words about his marriage to lady Sansa or even Sansa herself, to offer gods know what.

But Podrick entering his room at this hour, was something he definitely didn’t expect.

“My lord”

Tyrion smiled at those words. “Hello Podrick, I must say I’m surprised to see you in my room at this hour other than to save my life” Tyrion smiled again, while the squire only turned an even darker shade of red. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but as I said, I didn’t think you would still be up at this hour, I always thought you always planned to rise early.”

Podrick chuckled lightly at those words. _Still can’t believe he’s actually able to talk, or make sounds even. When I first met him, he wasn’t even able to utter a single word towards me, he could only blush._

_Still, a good boy, and an amazing squire._

_Can’t tell him that though, it’ll go to his head._  Tyrion smiled at that last thought.

_The seas will be deserts before Podrick turns arrogant._

“Still, you’re here now” he said, before turning to the table which contained a jug of wine and several empty glasses.

“Wine?” he asked raising one of the glasses.

“No thank you, my lord.”

Tyrion smiled at Podrick once again.

“More for me then” Tyrion said, before filling his glass and drunk from it instantly, though still drinking from it gracefully.

You are a Lannister, his _father_ had said, not some lowborn drunk. A Lannister always shows class and grace.

_Yes, father, just ask house Reyne, they witnessed your class first hand._

“But” he continued “you’re not here to chat Podrick, so why are you here?” he said, before taking another sip from his glass.

“The king asked me to send for you, my lord” Podrick said, and Tyrion’s wine tasted less sweet all of the sudden.

“Why, what does the king wish to tell me?”

“He didn’t tell me, my lord, only that you are to meet him at once. Once I was on my way here though, I did hear him say that it was ‘the most hilarious thing I heard since I removed Ned Stark’s traitor’s head from his body’

Tyrion sighed, and downed the last bit of the wine left in his glass, and let out a breath.

_That’s my nephew yes, my messed up little nephew._

“Well than Podrick, lead the way” he said, and started following the squire.

Podrick opened the door, and Tyrion was almost out of his room before he returned to his room at once.

_If I’m going to meet up with Joff, I’m going to need more alcohol than a glass._ He thought, and he carried the jug of wine out of his room.

 

 

He walked into the room, and he soon realised there were plenty of people here, _but Joffrey wasn’t._

His father, Cersei, Varys, and even Pycelle, all were here, sitting at the long table of the small council, there expressions not betraying anything, though he could see a glimpse of joy in Cersei’s face.

They finally noticed him as well, and as soon they turned their heads towards him, Joffrey walked onto the scene as well, with a vicious smile on his face.

_Could be a regular smile, but its Joffrey, so you’ll never know. I still remember him laughing at lady Sansa when the news of her two little brothers being killed came in._

_Yes, it’s that kind of smile._

“Killed some puppies today?” Tyrion said, while taking his seat at the table, placing the jug of wine on his right, earning a couple of glances from everyone at the table.

Joffrey just kept that smile on his face, as he eagerly pointed towards a couple of letters on the middle of the table.

“Show him” he said excitedly towards Pycelle, gesturing towards the letters.

“Go on, show him!” with even more excitement in his voice.

Pycelle slowly handed him the piece of paper, well attempted at least, before he ‘accidentally’ dropped it.

“Ohh!” the master said. “Apologies my lord, old……. fingers” he said.

Tyrion just gave him a cynical smile, and reached for the piece of paper on the floor, and picked it up.

He began to read.

_“Roslin caught a fine fat trout”_ he read out loud. _“Her brothers gave her a pair of wolf pelts for her wedding.”_

_“Signed, Ryman Frey.”_

He looked up from the piece of paper.

“Is this bad poetry or is it supposed to mean something?” he asked.

“Robb Stark is dead!” Joffrey said with laughter in his voice. “And his bitch mother!” he chuckled again.

Tyrion was in utter disbelief, and briefly turned his eyes to his father.

_If that bastard was ever capable of smiling, he would smile right now, proud cunt that he is._

The king turned his attention back towards Pycelle.

“Write back to lord Frey” Joffrey said.

_Wasn’t Walder Frey Lord of the Crossing?_ Tyrion thought, but Joffrey paid little mind to this little fact.

“Thank him for his services, and tell him to send me Robb Stark’s head!”

The King smiled cruelly.

“I’m going to serve it to Sansa at my wedding feast” he concluded, still smiling.

_Oh you fucked up little boy._

“Your grace” Varys interrupted “Lady Sansa is your aunt by marriage”

_Might be the first and only time this marriage has done and will do anything good for her: Not causing any more pain._

_Though I doubt it’s going to make a difference._

“A joke!” Cersei then said swiftly “Joffrey did not mean it” she said, while caressing Joffrey’s hand once again.

“Yes I did” Joffrey just said cruelly, “I’m going to serve it to Sansa at my wedding feast” he says, using that demanding tone once more, and Tyrion has finally had enough of his nephew’s disgusting behaviour.

“No” he says resolutely, and he sees Joffrey turn his eyes to him at once, his eyes showing hints of surprise, disbelief, and a small hint of anger, that was going to turn much bigger, Tyrion knew, once he had decided to speak up again.

“She’s no longer yours to torment” and he sees Joffrey’s face turn to rage at once.

“Everyone. Is mine. To torment.” He says coldly, while getting in Tyrion’s face, standing over the sitting dwarf. “You do well to remember that you little monster” Joffrey says with clear disgust in his face as he walks back to where he originally stood.

_So original,_ Tyrion thought, and Tyrion realised that his nephew needed to learn to show some respect once again. _However, seeing as I cannot slap him right now, Cersei would have my head for that if I would slap her golden lion, it seems I have to teach him some through words._

“Ohh, monster………. perhaps you should speak more softly than” he said, and he knew his voice was as cold as the land beyond the wall. “Monsters are dangerous, and just now, kings are dying like fly’s”

Joffrey looked at him in utter disbelief, and he turned to his mother, who was now meeting his gaze, her eyes challenging Joffrey’s to teach his uncle a lesson he would never forget, and then he looked at Tywin, who was also meeting Joffrey’s gaze, but the old lion’s eyes showed no emotion, as if he was challenging him to take care of something, on his own for once.

Then Joffrey turned his attention back to his uncle, with only rage in his eyes.

He pointed towards Tyrion. “I could have your tongue out for saying that” he just said coldly, and Cersei grasped for his hand once more.

“Let him make his threats” she said sweetly to Joffrey. “Hmm? He’s a bitter little man.” She said, and she glared at Tyrion once more at hearing those words.

“Lord Tyrion should apologize immediately.” Pycelle said, being the loyal servant of house Lannister once more. “Unacceptable, disrespectful, and in very bad taste.” He said with a tone meant to please all Lannisters except for Tyrion himself.

_Love you too, Pycelle._

“I am, the king!” Joffrey yelled, and Varys visibly recoiled, something Tyrion would have found very funny, were the situation any less serious.

“Any man who must say ‘I am the king’ is no true king” Tyrion heard his father say, and only now Tyrion began to notice the irritation on his face that must have been there ever since Joffrey started talking.

Joffrey turned his head again, this time to his grandfather who had just spoke.

“I made sure you’d understand that when I won your war for you” Tywin said, and Joffrey looked like he was about to explode, with a face that could be compared to the colours of the keep they were sitting in right now.

“My father won the real war!” Joffrey exploded. “He killed prince Rhaegar, he took the crown, while you hid under Casterley Rock!” Joffrey screamed out, and Tywin slowly turned his head towards the king.

_To an outsider, it may look like father simply looks surprised at this outburst of Joffrey, but anyone part of this family can see in father’s eyes that if he had his way, he would likely discipline the boy._

_Discipline, heh, yes, that would be a good word for it._

Joffrey seemed to realise this as well, as it looked like his eyes were almost retreating in its sockets, however still making an attempt to look imposing (and failed miserably at it) and Cersei looked at Joffrey as if he was to die on the spot.

_Which he will if father keeps looking at him like that, our king will freeze to that from father’s cold glare._

Tywin, never letting his eyes leave Joffrey, finally spoke again.

“The king is tired, see him to his chambers.” At which Cersei nearly jumped up to get Joffrey away from the chamber.

“Come along” Cersei said, (“I’m not tired”) “We have so much to celebrate, a wedding to plan” she said, as Tyrion saw Joffrey give his lord father one more vicious glare, before following his mother.

“Grandmaester, perhaps some essence of nightshade to help him sleep.” Tywin said coldly, while Tyrion could clearly hear the mock in his voice.  Joffrey turned around to this at once, seemingly having lost his calm once more.

“Im not. Tired!” he yelled, more sounding like a demanding brat than an ordering king, to which Tywin almost looked amused.

_Almost yes._

Cersei grasped for Joffrey once more. “Come” and Joffrey kept his eyes onto Tywin until he finally left the chamber, his steps bearing the sound of frustration and defeat.

The king having left the room, the grandmaester then took this as a sign to also leave the room, as he slowly rose from his chair and started to make his way out of the room, but not before reaching near the message which was the reason for this meeting.

Tyrion, however, smoothly flicked the message of the table, causing it to fall onto the floor.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry grandmaester” Tyrion said, while the old man looked at him in disbelief.

“Imp fingers, I’m afraid” he said, with his voice full with loathing, and Varys got the slightest hint of a grin on his face.

Pycelle then turned his eyes to Tyrion’s lord father, but he made no attempt to defend the o so loyal maester, to which Pycelle acknowledged his defeat, slowly picked up the paper, and left the room.

Varys also made to his feet, his face now unreadable, and left the room swiftly.

Tyrion also made to his feet, eager to leave the room which had only been used for gruesome news lately.

He grasped for the jug, from which he still hadn’t drunk, _ill finish it off in my way back to the room, won’t let good wine go to waste._

He picked up the jug, and started to walk out of the room.

But his father uttered two words which caused him to stop dead in his tracks.

“Not you”

_Never me._

He then turned his head back to his father, and waited until Varys had finally completely left the room.

“You just sent the most powerful man in Westeros to bed without his supper” he said in an amusing tone, but his father was as unsusceptible to his tone as to humour completely.

“You’re a fool if you believe he’s the most powerful man in Westeros” Tywin said dryly.

“A treasonous statement, Joffrey is king” Tyrion said sarcastically.

“You really think a crown gives you power?” his father said, and Tyrion instantly knew what he was getting at.

Tyrion decided to take his seat again.

“No. I think armies give you power” he said, to which Tywin just hummed. “Robb Stark had one. Never lost a battle. And you defeated him all the same.” Tyrion concluded.

Tywin hummed again.

“Oh I know” Tyrion said in a rather dull tone. “Walder Frey gets all the credit” he said, to which Tyrion reminded himself he should ask about why the letter hadn’t been signed by Walder Frey, but instead by some other Frey, whose name Tyrion was a bit unfamiliar with.

_Grandson, if I remember correctly, and an ambitious fool_.

“Or the blame, I suppose, depending on your allegiance”

Tywin just stared at Tyrion.

“Walder Frey is many things, but a brave man?

No, he never would have risked such an action if he didn’t have certain assurances.”

“Which he got from me” Tywin instantly said. “Do you disapprove?”

“I’m all for cheating, this is war. But to slaughter them at a wedding….” Tyrion started, explaining himself.

“Explain to me why it is more noble to kill ten thousand men in battle than a dozen at dinner”

_Only more noble because those are traditions father, traditions that have been respected for thousands of years._

_And you and your new ‘allies’ broke them._

_No wonder the realm has always been wary of the name Lannister, and why the word noble is mostly never connected to it._

_And the reason is sitting across me, on the other side of this table._

Tyrion felt his anger growing bigger by the minute, and had to keep himself from expressing his true ‘opinion’ of his father right there and then.

But he managed to keep himself calm, and continued.

“So that’s why you did it? To save lives?” Tyrion said, barely managing to keep his voice as calm as possible, and not calling his father out for being so cruel, so hypocritical, and so on.

“To end the war, to protect the family” Tywin just said coldly.

_Last I checked, I was still a Lannister, and I have never felt so protected as I feel right now._

Tyrion then decided he finally had enough, for if he stayed in this room any longer, he would most definitely lose his calm, and that was not something he could afford right now.

“Well father” he said, and he rose from his chair once more, taking the jug with him.

“I suppose I’ll leave you to it then, so that you can protect the family in peace” he said in disgust.

“And don’t disappoint your king father, and ensure he gets Robb Stark’s head in time for the wedding, you know how much it would please my lady wife to have her oldest brother served to her.” He said, in disgust once more.

And he started leaving the room, taking a sip of his wine.

“Even if I wanted to do that, that is no longer possible” Tyrion heard, and he nearly choked on his wine in surprise, for he hadn’t expected that response.

He turned back towards his father, but didn’t take seat this time.

“Don’t tell me the Frey’s have gotten attached to the Young Wolf’s body, or what’s left of it I suppose, seeing as they have been such gracious hosts” Tyrion says poisonously, and Tywin seemed to grow angry at these words, or impatient.

“They haven’t gotten attached: There is no body found at all!” Tywin said, his voice growing louder at the minute now, and Tyrion found the whole situation get more complicated by the minute.

“What do you mean father, no body at all? Surely you must have been ensured by the Frey’s, with the Young Wolf ‘betraying’ them, they wouldn’t let his body go untouched, would they?”

“Oh, I have heard plenty of things, that he dropped dead in the middle of the castle after being stabbed through the heart, that his direwolf’s head had been sown upon his lifeless body, that the Frey’s have paraded with him through the Twins, I have heard all that!” his father yelled at him, and now his father rose as well.

Tywin put his hand inside an opening in his tunic, and threw a small piece of paper onto the table he sat on a moment ago.

“However, the only words I believe, are the ones from that message” Tywin said, and Tyrion knew his father wanted him to read the message.

Tyrion walked to the table, picked up the small scroll, bearing the broken seal of house Lannister, and Tyrion started reading the small letter, which contained small sentences which must have been written hastily.

 

**_Walder Frey is dead, one moment the entire room was laughing at the death of the Young Wolf, a dagger through the heart, given to him by lord Bolton, just as you asked m’lord. Yet when one of the men suggested the idea of cutting his head of his body, a man appeared behind the lord of the Twins, holding a dagger across his throat. To keep it short m’lord, the man had words with some of the men in the room, including lord Bolton and, the self-proclaimed new lord of the Twins, Ryman Frey._ **

**_The man managed to convince that slimy Frey to turn on the Boltons, and another brawl ensued as soon as the man slit Walder Frey’s throat. This time between the men of your correspondents m’lord._ **

**_It was chaos m’lord, but I can tell you one thing: Before I had to leave the room with lord Bolton, to retreat somewhere more safe, I saw the man pick up the body of the Young Wolf. Amidst all the chaos, no-one even tried to stop him, stupid dogs that they are, and the man managed to escape the room with the body of the rebel King on his shoulders._ **

**_That was the last time anyone saw the Young Wolf._ **

**_I’ll inform m’lord whenever I have more news._ **

**_Your loyal servant._ **

**_PS: The man who managed to escape with Robb Stark’s body is a man called Jajor Tradesfair, from a noble house from the Riverlands. Lord Bolton called him out in front of the room and made sure everyone in attendance heard his name. It would only be my duty to ensure that you heard his as well. I trust you will use this knowledge as you see fit._ **

 

 

The letter ended after that, and Tyrion just stayed silent for a long time, with also his father not saying only one word.

The only voice Tyrion heard was the voice in his head, talking to him to make sense of this all.

_What the fuck is all this?_

_One moment I’m hearing that Robb Stark has been butchered at a wedding, now I hear that his body is gone?_

_Also, Walder Frey? Dead? I’m not sorry for that perverse old cunt, taking barely flowered girls into his bed, making one his wife even!_

_But this does complicated things._

_For father, I mean, I doubt he’ll even listen to what I’ll have to say anymore now that the war is ‘won’._

_But have we really?_

Tyrion finally dropped the piece of paper onto the table, and started to talk.

“A spy of yours, father?” to which his father hummed once again. “Roose Bolton was in on it as well, I see, though I shouldn’t be surprised, should I father? All those ravens headed North could have been only meant for one man. Do I even need to ask what he wanted in return? Let me guess, he wanted the North, at least until a son is born to Sansa and me.”

That last part was something he was very angry about, but Tyrion knew the North: They would never bow to someone who didn’t have Stark blood in their veins.

_Yes, it makes sense. Though father being the biggest cunt in all seven kingdoms is also making more sense the more day’s pass._

Tyrion would fight his father on this point, had this letter not been shown to him. He would tell, no, **demand** , that he would not rape the poor girl.

_She’s been through enough, and having to open her legs to a Lannister is too much for her, it has always been too much for her._

But this letter had changed everything indeed.

_Father knows this as well, and he knows why on every ground there is to understand._

_Every ground._

_Though I’m not going to admit that to him openly._

_I want to hear him say it himself, that the great Tywin Lannister had failed to finish the job with promises, after he had already failed in battle._

Tyrion decided to talk once more.

“So we’ve won now, right?” he said then, sounding more naïve than he had hoped.

His father turned to face him at once, his eyes almost threatening.

“This war had been won the second Robb Stark decided to break his pact with the Frey’s. Don’t play dumb, you might be smart, but I know when you’re lying Tyrion” his father said, and he continued to glare at Tyrion, awaiting his son’s response.

_If that’s how you want to play this game father, fine, I’ll play._

Tyrion sighed.

“Yes father, you always see right through me, we both have always known that. But it’s not hard to see what I meant, was it? The Young wolf is dead, any resistance will crumble now, for they have lost their leader, who allegedly could not be killed”

“Do you actually believe that?”

“Believe what?”

Tywin started leaning his hands on the table, looking a very impatient man.

“Do you actually believe that the resistance towards us, towards the throne will stop now? The Northerners and Rivermen love the Starks, misguided as they may be. I’ve heard from another report, that the Blackfish wasn’t present when the fighting started. ( _Fighting, nice word for it father.)_ And there will be plenty of other houses too stubborn to kneel, they will keep fighting us, not openly no, but as soon as the chance appears to turn against us, they will.”

Of course, Tyrion had known all this all along. _Not as stupid as you think father, even though you are the one being stubborn._

“Well father,” Tyrion said, and he was surprised at the words he was about to say, surprised that he would dare to be so defiant towards his father.

“At least you have killed Robb Stark, right?” Tyrion said, and he saw his father’s eyes turn into orbs of fire.

He knew his father was about to explode.

“I’m so happy the whole situation amuses you.” His father said, on the verge of lashing out.

“What is there so funny about father? Robb Stark is dead right? Or isn’t he?” Tyrion said so sarcastically he was amazed he didn’t punch himself in the face. _Gods, I’m sounding like a cunt right now, though it is what I want my father to hear._

_Maybe now he’ll finally understand me, for now I am also speaking his language._

_The language of cunts._

His father found it less amusing, to say the least.

“The dead crippled boy survived a fall from a tower back then, his oldest sister has survived court with your sister and nephew, and the youngest sister has managed to escape a heavily guarded King’s Landing, and you think it’s funny when his body is nowhere to be found?”

_What’s funny father, no matter how smart you believe yourself to be, you have your failures as well._

_You…._

_I’m going to think about it again aren’t I?_

_Cunt._

_There we go._

In actuality, Tyrion said nothing at his father, but only continued to stare at him.

Though he had to speak again.

“No father, I’m not stupid, even though sometimes you believe me to be, but I very well know that if the body is not located, then we can’t count him dead.” Tyrion said to Tywin.

Tyrion suddenly remembered the words the bastard, Jon Snow, had said one time.

_You Starks are hard to kill._

Tyrion knew he was going to get no more from his father about Robb Stark, and he noticed that his father was more than eager to end this conversation.

_Well so am I._

“One more thing father,” Tyrion said. “I know for sure you have already sent men to try and locate the Young Wolf’s body, but what of the man who got him out of the Twins in the first place? House…………… Tradesfair it was?” Tyrion asked.

Tywin nodded coldly.

“Yes, a relatively new house of the Riverlands, turned nobility when the head of the house traded himself enough coin to buy himself some ground and build a keep near the Trident, and was raised to nobility shortly after by the Tully’s”

Tywin collected the scroll which contained the spy’s report of the table.

“I have dispatched men towards the keep when I first heard of that boy’s actions.” He just said coldly, and left the room.

Tyrion stood there for a brief moment, alone in the chamber of the council.

_The bravery of one boy is going to be punished through the murder of the many._

_It’s too late to send a raven to them now._

_They don’t deserve this fate, no-one honest does._

Tyrion felt sorry for the men of the house he would never meet.

_I won’t anymore at least._

And with that thought in mind, Tyrion left the room, with thoughts to ponder, a wife to comfort, and plans to make.

 

He didn’t even take the flagon back with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for the delay, got lots and lots of work at school i need to do, and i can't promise i'll be releasing a chapter very soon.  
> However, i am working on the next one right now, with a bit of luck ill release it sooner then expected.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are really appriciated.  
> Tell me what you think, and as always, thanks for reading.


	4. Robb

_“Take me as a hostage, but let my son go! Robb! Go, get out of here!” he heard his mother scream at him, pleading him to go, but he just didn’t care anymore:_

_Talisa lay on the floor, her body not showing any sign of life, and her hand on the bloody mess of her stomach, the stomach which had contained their child._

_His child, he thought while feeling at her bloody stomach._

_I’ve lost, he thought, the minute I married her I lost this war, and with that failed everyone who had ever counted on me._

_He should care about what was going on in this room, he should care about how is life was about to end, how he was betrayed by the people who were supposed to be his allies._

_But he just didn’t care anymore._

_The only person in this room he still cared about was across the room, holding a knife across a Frey girl’s throat, pleading for his life._

_She should plead for her own, he thought, mine isn’t worth anything anymore to me._

_“And why would I do that?” Walder Frey finally spoke, and he saw his mother wince at once._

_“I’ll kill her,” his mother cried out, “I’ll kill your wife!” she yelled, with desperation clearly showing in her voice._

_Walder Frey simply sat back in his chair, and reached for his goblet._

_“I’ll find another”_

_His mother’s face was taken over by a sad form of realisation, and she looked like she was about to scream even louder._

_“Mother….” He managed to get out of his throat, and his mother turned to him at once, tears still rolling down her eyes._

_As if it was rehearsed, Lord Bolton walked up right in front of him, dagger in his right hand._

_Of course it would be him, Robb thought._

_“The Lannisters send their regards,” Lord Bolton simply said, and he stabbed him through the heart._

_Gods, the pain was unbearable, having his chest opened and his heart pierced with a dagger._

_Not as much as the psychological pain no, but it damn sure hurt for him._

_He fell onto his knees, and he looked at his mother, the woman who had only suffered ever since father had ridden south, whose face looked like the saddest woman who had ever walked on this world._

_Then he finally fell back, his back meeting the floor once more, and he was prepared to see his father and brothers once more._

That did not seem to be the case however straight away however, for he awoke in a clean bed, in clean clothes, in a clean room.

This surprised Robb.  _I’m not dead?_

He only now noticed the clothes he was wearing, a simple white tunic made from sheep’s wool, and a comfy pair of leather trousers. And when he felt his chin he noticed that he no longer had a beard there, but instead a clean shaven chin, for he didn’t recall shaving before the wedding.

This revelation motivated him to look under his tunic, expecting to see a monstrous opening in his chest.

There was no such thing.

_Well at least I know for certain now that I’m dead._

_Though if I’m dead, where am I? Afterlife? This is where I’ll remain forever, in a room with only a bed in it?_

Just as the words had been uttered in his mind, he noticed a wooden door on the other side of the room, and Robb could have sworn he heard laughter coming from the other side.

Anxious to go through this door, Robb rose from his bed at once, throwing the furs of off him, and he started walking towards this mysterious door.

_Gods know what I’ll find behind it._

_Guess the only way to find out is to open it, I guess._

He opened the door, still not sure what to expect to find behind it, and he felt his reluctant feeling to find something awful behind this door leave him at once.

 

He seemed to be in some kind of in, a filled with plenty of people, and from every table in this inn he could hear people laughing.

He started walking into the room, and he let his eyes wander some more into this room.

He realised if this was truly an inn, he could look to find the bar, to order a drink perhaps.

_What am I doing? I just died, and the first thing that’s on my mind is getting a drink?_

He could think no more however, for a booming voice awoke him from his thoughts.

“ **Well look who finally kicked the bucket!”**

He turned to the source of this sound at once, and he was met with the appearance of the man who had visited Winterfell in what seemed a long time ago.

He was met with the appearance of Robert Baratheon, who was now closing in on Robb.

_As I thought, I’m dead._ He thought, though he didn’t let the sad realisation linger in his mind for long, as the former king was now standing in front of him.

“So, how did you go?” was the first question his father’s best friend asked him, and no matter how sad the happening of his death had been, a small smile rose to his lips at once.

“Killed at a wedding.” Robb replied, and he saw the Baratheon let out a booming laugh.

“Really? Of all the ways to go, that’s how you went out?” Robert laughed, and Robb couldn’t help but let out a laugh as well.

_Leave it to Robert Baratheon to turn one of the saddest moments of Westeros and turn it into something to laugh about._

“What, and being killed by a boar while drinking spiked wine is any better?”

Another booming laugh. “O that’s a good one son, come, I’ll take you to your father!” Robert Baratheon said, and he put his arm around Robb and started walking with him.

Robb’s joyous mood left his body at once after hearing these words.

_I’ll see my family again, true, but it isn’t a pleasant family meeting. “Hey, he died as well! You owe me the next round, I expected him to last another year!”_

_No no no, it isn’t going to be like that._

_Wait a minute, did Robert just say my father? Only my father?_

_What about Bran and Rickon?_

_What about mother?_

_No, they will have kept her alive, as a hostage._

_She’ll won’t have much of a life, but at least she’ll live._

_But that doesn’t explain Bran and Rickon though._

Before Robb could think any more about it, his thoughts were interrupted by the former Baratheon King once more. “NED! I HAVE SOMEONE HERE FOR YOU!” and Robb noticed a man who was on the table with an old man with grey hair and a kind face.

The first turned to him and Robert at once, and Robb finally saw his father.

His father seemed stunned, as he quickly excused himself to the older man, and he started walking hastily towards Robb.

Robert left his side at once, releasing Robb’s shoulder and started walking towards the bar.

Robb also started walking, but he was walking towards his father in a fast pace.

There were no words uttered when the two got close to each other, but they were not needed when his father put Robb in such a tight hug that Robb couldn’t breathe for a second, but Robb couldn’t bring himself to care, and he returned the hug as well.

After what seemed like some time, both he and his father loosened their grip on each other, and Robb finally got to look at his father’s face, properly this time.

_Gods, he looks so much younger. Last time I saw him-_

Robb gulped, though his father didn’t seem to notice as he was waiting for Robb to talk first.

_Last time I saw him; he was riding south. I still remember the look on his face the day he left:_

_Uncertainty was the prime emotion showing on his face back then._

_Now though? He almost looks happy, and he looks healthier as well, and cleaner and-_

“Expecting me to speak first do you?”

Robb was pulled out of his thoughts once more, and he couldn’t help but embrace his father once more, and as soon as he had fully embraced him, he felt himself become sad once more.

“I’m so sorry,” Robb said, on the verge of breaking out into tears. “I messed it all up, I should have done better, I could have saved Sansa and Arya, and because of me Bran and Rickon are dead! I could have saved you, if I had just- “he rambled until his father made Robb face him, their temples meeting and his father having his right hand atop of his head.

“You did it better than anyone could have ever expected from you, and when you made mistakes you owned up to them; I couldn’t be more proud of you.” His father said, and all Robb could do was look at his feet, feeling like a boy instead of a man.

_He could always make me feel that way._

_Mother too, when she was mad at me._

Robb then realised something.

“Father?”

“Yes son?”

“Seeing as…………. As I’m dead” he said hesitantly, and his father just looked at him patiently.

“Seeing as I’m dead, and everyone else here is seemingly is as well,” Robb said, giving Robert a quick look, who was now getting way to friendly with a Red-haired woman who was also ordering something ( _she looks familiar)._

“If I’m truly dead, then where is Mother? And where are Bran and Rickon?” he finally said.

His father just gave him a sad smile.

“Because, my son, they aren’t dead.” And Robb felt himself become confused once more.

“And as much as I loved seeing you again my son, you aren’t either” and Robb now definitely didn’t understand what was going on.

“What? But what am I doing here if I’m not- “was all Robb could say as he noticed that the left side of the room was slowly disappearing, and now slowly the door that led to the room he had awoken in also slowly disappeared into the abyss.

**Your Grace?**

A voice. _Who said that?_

His father started walking away from him now, and before Robb could stop him, the floor which his father had walked disappeared, causing a cliff to disappear between the two Starks.

**Your Grace?**

_That voice again, where is it coming from?_

“Father!” Robb screamed, turning his attention back to his father once more.

“Please don’t leave! Not now!”

His father turned back towards him.

And he smiled.

And then Eddard Stark also disappeared into the abyss, same as the rest of the room.

**Your grace?**

_Again! Who in the god’s name is saying that?_

Robb started to panic now, for the darkness that had consumed huge parts of the room closed in on him now, getting closer and closer and closer.

Robb closed his eyes, realising the darkness would consume him as well now.

**“YOUR GRACE!”**

With a scream on his lips he opened his eyes at once, and he started to breathe uncontrollably.

With his eyes widened once more, and his breathing finally slowing down a bit, Robb started to realise he wasn’t in the inn no longer, nor was he in the abyss that had almost consumed him.

Sure, it was dark in here, but he could still make something of his new surroundings, he could still see that he was in a relatively large room, surrounded in what seemed like dark wooden walls, and he also started to notice the sounds around him as well, the sound of water meeting wood, the wood that surrounded him right now.

_A ship, I’m on a ship._

_Does that mean I’m not dead though?_

He noticed he was once again laying in what could barely be described as a bed, the mattress being way less comfortable than the one he was laying in in his previous dream.

_Was it a dream though?_

Before he could think any longer, he then realised he wasn’t the only person in this room.

Beside his bed, he noticed, was a man sitting atop of a chair, and even though it was still quite dark in the room, _or cabin I should say,_ he could still very clearly see from the corner of his eyes that the man’s eyes were widened, light-blue eyes gaping at him, and he could clearly understand why the man was staring at him.

_I screamed like a lunatic when I was awoken from that, that dream, let’s call it that for now._

_Everyone on this ship has most likely heard it._

_Speaking of which, on what kind of ship am I?_

_Where am I?_

_And who is this sitting beside me?_

Robb made an effort to draw his body upwards, and almost instantly he felt his body overcome with pain.

He screamed it out once more, screaming at the pain of his back, but it was mostly his chest that hurt, or more specifically, his heart. His heart felt like it was on fire, and the pain was so much it was overtaking the rest of his body now as well, and before Robb knew it, his whole body hurt, and was screaming in agony once more.

The man visibly recoiled at this but recovered quickly, and he rose from his chair and walked to a nearby cupboard.

“You shouldn’t move Your Grace; it’ll only make the pain worse!”  the man said while picking up a scale which was filled with a milky substance, and Robb knew what was in the scale.

When the man closed in on him again and tried to bring the substance to Robb’s lips, Robb turned his face away almost instantly, which caused Robb to bite his bottom lip to prevent himself from screaming again, this time his neck being the source of pain.

“Your grace please, it’ll make the pain go away! And your body is going to give in to the pain if you don’t drink!” the man very nearly yelled at him, desperation overtaking his voice now.

Robb was reluctant to drink because even though body had hurt as if it had been on fire, it had given him the certainty that he was still alive, and he wanted to stay that way.

_Though I’m not going to last much longer if this pain keeps prolonging, fuck it hurts!_

So he drank, reluctantly yes, but he drank the substance, and he felt himself become really tired at once.

Then he fell away into a dreamless sleep.

 

 

 

When he woke up, he noticed that it had gotten considerably lighter (Though you still couldn’t see that much) in the cabin.

His cabin.

He was sure of it now, for he could notice the moving of the floor and walls, which could only mean they were on sea, and the smell of salt overwhelming his senses, which could only mean they were at the middle of a sea or an ocean.

But he was sure he was on a ship now, so that had to mean something right?

He almost made an effort to move from his bed, to move beneath the fur he was covered with, but quickly remembered what had happened the last time he tried to move in this condition.

_I would like to avoid that, thank you very much._

So he didn’t make an effort to move, laying silent on his bed, still doing absolutely nothing.

_It wouldn’t hurt to move my neck now, would it?_

_Wait, of course it would, I experienced it myself last night._

_Still, a bit of sleep might have done me some good, and the only way to find out if my neck still hurts is to move it, right?_

The thought took over way to easy, and before he knew it, he was moving his neck.

It was sore, and there was still a little bit of pain, but other than that, nothing too threatening to his life. He finally used his head to tuck his head in, lifted the fur from his body, and thus finally seeing the absolute mess that was his body.

He hadn’t expected a perfectly healed wound near his hart, gods no, but he didn’t think it would look that bad: The hole near his heart was still largely pink, and he could have sworn he also saw a couple of yellow spots. Though it didn’t sting (much) right now, he decided it would be a much better idea to lay his head back into his pillow, having dealt with the fear of physical pain.

However, the sudden realisation of why he was hurt made him face his mental pain.

_Oh gods._

_What the hell happened?_

_Walder Frey. Walder fucking Frey._

_Of course he wouldn’t let it go that I broke off my betrothal to his daughter, of course he would be pissed. Mother told me when I was about to marry Talisa. Both of them trusted me, and I failed both of them._

_And Roose Bolton, could I have expected anything else? When he told me to do this, I didn’t. When he told me to go left, I went right. I could have seen all this coming from so far away, but I was just too stubborn too see it. That’s what you get for seeing the best in people I suppose, same reason father died._

_And now there all dead. Mother, Talisa, Dacey, Smalljon, all dead because I couldn’t keep my fucking promise! Why did I have to fuck up so bad? How did it all go so wrong?_

Robb then suddenly remembered the dream, if you want to call it that, he had just before he had awoken, just a while back when the room around him was still dark, while right now the room looked like little bits of light sneaked into the room from the ceiling, realizing he must be on the lower deck.

 

_That dream, that strange dream, was it a dream though? It seemed so real though. And what father said, what do you mean, they aren’t dead? How can that even be, that just doesn’t make any sense!_

 Just when he was about to think about it some more, he heard a cracking sound on the other side of the room, to which Robb slowly adjusted his neck so that he could see what was the cause of this sound.

Apparantly it was the sound of a door; one which Robb hadn’t noticed the first time he was awake.

_Not that strange really, I felt like I was dying, and checking my surroundings would have been a stupid thing to do there and then._

A man walked through the door, and Robb could only guess that it was the same man who was with him last night, who had given him milk of the poppy so he could sleep again.

The man walked through the door, but as soon as he had entered the room, he turned around to close the door almost instantly, but just before Robb could get concerned, the man turned to him.

From his bed he could finally get a good and proper look at the man, or should he say boy? Robb looked at his face, and judging from the look of his face, the man, or boy, couldn’t be much older than him, perhaps even younger? Sure, he had a bit of a beard, pathetic excuse for one when comparing it to the ones of the Greatjon and uncle Brynden, but a beard nonetheless, brown hairs adorning his chin and cheeks. He had dark-brown hair that was relatively long, and that had started to fall in front of his eyes a little bit. His eyes, that were widened, most likely because he had just noticed Robb being awake, were light-blue, and were looking at him in surprise.

“Your Grace!” he started, clearly unsure what to say next, and looked like he was clearly hoping for Robb to say something.

Robb however, remained silent.

“I hadn’t expected you to be up, I thought the milk of the poppy would have made you sleep longer.” The man said, now moving to the chair he had sat on just before Robb apparently started yelling in his sleep.

“Apparently that is not the case,” Robb just replied dryly, and the man had taken his seat on his chair when these words were uttered.

The man let out an amused breath. “Clearly, your grace,” the man said dryly in response, before his face was overtaken by discomfort once again.

“Do you…….. remember me your Grace?” the man uttered, and Robb immediately took in the man’s features once again, before realising he had met him before.

_Met. Heh, what a word for it._

For Robb did remember this man, how could he not? His memory took him back to that one afternoon, the Battle of the Whispering Wood to be specific. He remembered a man, this man, charging into the Kingslayer, shield first, causing the both of them to fall once the two collided.

Robb also recalled his name, the one he had asked for once the battle was over and when he had sought out this one at once.

“Jajor, Jajor Tra-“Robb started, before he had to cough, which caused the other man to sit up at once, and Robb raised his hand to him at once, signalling him he was all right.

So the man sat down again.

“Jajor Tradesfair, from Wycombe.”

For a brief second the Riverlander seemed to have a hint of a small smile of his face, and nothing more. When that brief second passed though, discomfort overtook his face once more.

“Yes, your grace, that is correct,” he said with a tone that almost sounded like he was apologising for something.

They both sat there for what felt like quite some time to Robb, both men refusing to open up on the subject that neither man wanted to talk about.

After a while though, Robb finally spoke.

“Am I the only one?”

He hadn’t meant that the words had sounded so cold, but he had to know, so fuck the tone in which he said it, as long as he knew.

Jajor just simply lowered his head, looking at his hands that were intertwined in each other on his knees.

“Anyone?!” Robb continued, desperate to hear the words. “My Direwolf?” _Grey wind?_  “Lady Catelyn?” _Mother?_ “The Queen?” _Talisa?_

“Anyone?”

The second time he says this is sounds more like a plea than a question.

Robb had expected the response, but the response he gets, a response of only one word makes his body feel as if all the life had been sucked out of it.

“No”

Jajor says this while still not looking Robb in the eye, while still only looking at his hands, evading his king’s eyes.

That one word, that one cruel word, forcing him to face all of his fears, making these fears become reality after just that one word.

Robb lowers his face into his open hands, but doesn’t let any tears flow.

_No._

_They’re all dead._

_And it’s my fault._

_So why am I not dead?_

Robb forces himself to raise his head, and he turns back towards the Riverlander.

“Where are we?” he asks, finally asking the other question that had bothered him ever since he had awoken from that godforsaken dream. “I know for a fact we are at sea, as if that was not obvious enough. So we must have sailed from somewhere. White Harbour?” he concludes, already kind of knowing the answer, for no other harbour would help a man with such distinctive features.

_I’ve heard plenty of times that I have the Tully look, and right now, the only man with a Tully look, so I would have been recognised easily._

Robb notices that Jajor is nodding, and that he finally sits straight as well now, meeting Robb’s eyes at last.

“Aye, we sailed from White Harbour.”

“I assume Lord Manderly knows?”

Jajor lets out a breath, and Robb sees this as, under current circumstances, as a sign that he’s amused.

“We would never have made it to White Harbour if it weren’t for the Manderly’s, or the Crannogmen or…………” Jajor’s voice falls away, seemingly looking for words.

“Yes, your Grace, Lord Manderly knows.” He says after a brief period of silence.

Robb simply nods slightly at these words.

“So where are we now? We sailed from White Harbor, that much is obvious now, but where are we now specifically?” he asks, and this time he doesn’t know the answer to his own question.

_It doesn’t add up: If I were to remain anywhere safe, which I assume where he is taking me: Somewhere safe. But if I would be brought somewhere safe, why not just leave me at the Neck? Howland Reed was a loyal friend to my father, everyone knew that, and what about the Manderly’s? They would have protected me with their life, so why wasn’t I left there either?_

“We’re an route to the port of Sisterton,” Jajor said, and when Robb was about to ask why of all places they were going there, (Jajor seemed to realise this too) Jajor responded.

“We’re not staying there, gods be good. No, we’re stopping there to change ships, because no other ship from White harbour will sail where we are going.”

_Odd, I always thought that White harbour traded with all of the Harbours of the North and the Riverlands, before the war they traded with almost everyone, so where were they sailing that no ship from White harbour couldn’t go?_

_Though I still can name a couple of places, Skagos for one, or perhaps even Dragonstone. Gods know what Stannis would do with me if I showed up there,_ Robb thought, suddenly remembering the offerings he had heard about. Of all the ways Robb wanted to die, burning to death seemed to be pretty low on that list.

_Still higher than betrayed, shot and stabbed by your bannermen and allies I suppose._

“Okay,” Robb continues, “If we aren’t staying at the Neck, and if we aren’t staying in White harbour, then we’re are we going in the Seven Kingdoms?”

“We’re not staying in the Seven Kingdoms”

Robb instantly flinches.

“We’re going to take a ship to the free city of Braavos, your Grace.

_What?_

_No no no no._

_He’s shipping me away from the Seven Kingdoms, away from the people who killed my father and, I suppose, mother and wife, crippled my brother and made MY people bleed?_

_No._

_I’m not fleeing like a craven: I will mend my wounds, I will heal, and I will take revenge on the ones who took my loved ones away from me._

_I will not run._

_I will fight._

So Robb immediately has his response ready.

“No”

Jajor looks at him confused.

“Your Grace?”

“You heard me: I said No.”

Jajor turns his eyes away from him, biting his lip, looking slightly irritated.

“Apologies, your Grace, but I think no is not an option.”

“Why? If you say we are indeed sailing to Sisterton, that means we are still in the Seven Kingdoms. So, seeing as we haven’t left yet for Braavos, I have decided I will not leave the Seven Kingdoms,”

“And besides, you’re still calling me ‘Your Grace’. Well, I may not be the smartest on the area of Kingship,” he says, remembering the mistakes he made not too long ago, “You should still serve me right? It is your duty” he says, saying that last word colder than he had imagined he would.

Robb always hated it when people of a higher rank used their title to remind others lower than them that they were the ones in charge, not the lower folk. This was the reason he never relied on such talk, for a King shouldn’t act that way. People should follow a leader because they love and respect them, not because they have to.

_That’s what father told me anyway._

The Riverlander turned his eyes back to him, his eyes betraying frustration now, but Robb expected him to obey, because he technically still was a King, and under normal circumstances, any of Robb’s people would have obeyed him, no questions asked.

Unfortunately for Robb though, these weren’t normal circumstances, and the Riverlander opened his mouth to speak once more.

Robb had expected the Riverlander to be irritated, even pissed off.

What he hadn’t expected was the tone he started talking towards him, cold and venomously.

“So, that’s it then?” Jajor starts, and Robb can’t help but feel slightly cold at the sound of his voice, the soft voice that seems to make every word uttered feel like a drop of temperature, and it sounds like the Riverlander isn’t done talking for atleast a little while.

“Do you know how many people died at that fucking wedding? Do you know how many more men died trying to get you to safety? Your personal guard, armed with nothing more than knives and forks, yet fighting for your life as if it was their own? Or your own fucking soldiers, throwing themselves into enemy arms just to buy us a couple more seconds to get away? Not even counting the Crannogmen, guiding us through the Neck with arrows being pierced through their backs! And you want that sacrifice, their sacrifice, thrown away, just because you are just too blinded by rage to see?!”

Robb wants to lash out at him, scream at him, that he does not understand what it feels like to lose those you love.

“You don’t understand-“he starts, yelling at Jajor now, but the RIverlander cuts him off, the calmness that had remained in his voice now gone.

“YES I DO FUCKING UNDERSTAND!” he yells at Robb, and before Robb can respond to that, Jajor simply continued, his voice now overtaken with frustration and anger.

“The moment I helped you, I sealed my family’s fate. Right now, my parents will be dead, or butchered more like, and my home burned to the ground! My older sister is probably being sought after as we speak, and I can’t even think about what the Lannisters will do to her once they find her!” he practically yells, and when he takes a huge breath, Robb realises he still isn’t done.

“Every time I think about my family’s fate; I wonder why I didn’t just leave you for them! It would have been really easy to leave you know? As soon as everything was going to shit,” he seems to freeze at that last sentence, but soon continues, “As soon as everything went to shit, I could have just ran towards a horse and left. My family would have been fine, my home unburned, and I would have lived a happy life.” The Riverman finishes, with a hint of regret in his voice now, and he closes his eyes and turns his head slightly.

When he opens them again, all emotion seems to have left them, just two cold light-blue eyes looking at him.

“Yet here we are,” the Riverlander says while turning his head fully towards him at once.

“I, a man who has lost absolutely everything, am sitting here with a man, or a King, I don’t care anymore how you want to be addressed, who is just too stubborn to see that he’s throwing a second chance away! Your people died for you to live another day, and you refuse to see that **because you’ve suffered?** ”

Robb wants to say something, anything, but each time he tries to come up with a reply, the words simply die in his throat.

“I’m so sorry for your losses, truly, I am, but remember, you are not the only one who has suffered from all this.”

The pity in his voice is a bit surprising to Robb, but that tone has disappeared as soon as it had appeared.

“If you still refuse to see sense, fine. I’ll leave you at Sisterton and you’ll have all the choice of where you will go next. But you’ll do it on your own, go back to White harbour for all I care, or any other of your banner’s homes, but I doubt that you’ll last long, with Frey and Bolton alike most likely sweeping all of the North.”

“What I’m saying is, you want to stay in the Seven Kingdoms? Fine, fucking stay, waste this fucking chance of justice, vengeance, or whatever the fuck what will keep you going. I have done my duty and made sure you ended up safe, but I am not keeping you safe, at least not like this.”

Everything Jajor said was said with a cold, aggressive, voice, and Robb can’t help but feel ashamed, can’t help but curse himself for even refusing to consider that there might be other people who had lost as well.

Before Robb can say anything in response, Jajor rises, fury still adorning his eyes.

“We’re half a day away from Sisterton, I want an answer before then. Now if you will excuse me,” Jajor starts walking towards the door in response, and when he opens it, he turns his head back towards Robb one last time.

“I’m going to explain to the captain why the fuck we were screaming, so you just stay put, or do whatever the fuck you want to do, I don’t care anymore”

With this he leaves, slamming the door behind him, leaving Robb only with his own thoughts to keep him company.

Though what is he supposed to think about? How he is surprised at the Riverlander’s actions just now, while Robb acted like a stubborn child, begging for a treat until he got one? How he is supposed to feel sorry for all the other Northerners and Rivermen who suffered at the Twins, but can’t bring himself to bother because the grief for his own loved ones hurts just too damn much?

No.

Instead, when Robb is finally able to think again after having overcome the feeling of embarrassment over what had just transpired, his thoughts went to how his body felt.

_The pain has stopped._

Carefully, Robb moved himself so he finally sat upwards.

_No pain so far._

Slowly, Robb turned himself to the side of his bed, having his feet hang just above the floor.

He slowly let the floor meet his feet.

When Robb, who now was sitting on his bed, felt that his feet didn’t give in to the new sensation of finally having his feet on the floor again, he slowly rose.

His feet were still shaky, and he had to lean on his bed multiple times to regain his balance, but after a while, he managed to stand on his own.

Slowly, he started pacing the room, but not before realising he was still very much naked.

Slightly embarrassed _(why should I be, I’m alone right?)_ , he took the fur and threw it around him, and started to explore his cabin.

It was not a large cabin, but he had enough room to move himself properly, and even though they were at sea, the floor was not nearly as slippery as he expected.

Slowly, Robb moved through the room, letting his right hand wander over almost everything that was in the cabin: The walls, which were as he expected extremely cold. The cupboard, but all what Robb found in it was some remainder of the milk of the poppy, and Robb quickly closed the cupboard once again.

_I’ve had quite enough of that thank you._

He searched everything in the room to find anything interesting: A closet, that appeared to be empty when he opened it. A large pile of soaked furs, which hid nothing but an old bottle of wine.

Which was empty.

_Damn, I could have used some._

The one thing in the room he didn’t immediately search through, was a small chest just beside the door of the room.

The reason he didn’t open it straight away?

_Blood._

_Lots and lots of blood._

It was a simple, wooden chest that didn’t seem to have a lock, it was the darkest shade of brown and Robb could only wonder wat was inside it.

Though, as he thought, the bloodstains on the chest and near the openings of the chest quite discouraged him.

_Do I want to open it?_

Robb quickly shook his head, forcing that thought out of his head rather fast.

_Who am I kidding? I want to find out, and the only way to find out what is in it is to open it._

_Besides, I doubt anything that dangerous is in there._

He opened the chest, slower than he had expected, but opened it was.

He had expected a lot of things to be contained inside the chest, from bloodied swords to some meat, though why anyone would want to keep meat inside a chest was beyond him.

What he hadn’t expected to find was to find………….

To find……

_My wedding clothes._

He hadn’t expected to be so emotionally shocked upon seeing the clothes he wore the night he lost almost everything, for he still had his life.

_As if that’s worth anything to me anymore though._

It was most likely the state of his clothes that shocked him so:

Where first it had been an outfit worthy of a King, it wasn’t much to look at anymore. It’s fine, black dyed wool was barely recognisable, covered in blood, and one huge gaping hole in the front of its tunic. Slowly turning the tunic around he saw, as he expected, another pair of holes.

He’d rather not remember the pain he felt what caused his tunic to turn into such a disastrous state.

As if it was on instinct, he took the tunic to his nose on the one spot that wasn’t covered in blood, and was comforted and saddened when he realised what it smelt like.

The smell of earth, musk and fur.

_Grey wind._

This was too much for him, and when had put the tunic back into the chest and he sat down upon his bed once more, he felt his face with his fingers once more, and he felt tears.

He wouldn’t weep loudly, the last thing he wanted was for someone to check on him.

Robb wanted to be alone, especially now.

He let the tears flow from his face, shocking heavily, but still not making a sound, holding his face into his folded hands supressing any sound that he could have been making.

He lets those thoughts, those grieving thoughts he had shut out not too long ago, overtake him, and he finds himself unable to stop crying for a long time.

_How did I fuck up so badly?_

_They were counting on me! All of them! Not just Mother, but Sansa too, just waiting for her big brother to rescue her, and I failed her! And Arya, wild wilful Arya, who is most likely wandering the wilds now, waiting for any news!_

_And I failed her!_

_And what about every Northman and Riverman who counted on me, who crowned me, who believed in me?_

_I FUCKING FAILED THEM!_

He finally lifted his head from his hands, and all that grief turned into hate in a matter of seconds.

_They will pay for this._

_Joffrey, for beheading my father. Tywin Lannister, for doing this to me!_

_Roose Bolton, Walder Frey, everyone who wronged me and my family is going to suffer for this!_

Those vengeful thoughts were followed by an almost mocking voice inside his head.

_And how will you do that Robb?_

_Will you go back to Winterfell, or any other of the houses of the North? Do you expect them to just fight for you straight away? Even if they would, the Boltons and Freys would put a quick stop to that, most likely they have sent spies to all of the great houses._

_You wouldn’t last long back in the North Robb, and if you think the Riverlands will be any different, then you deserve any fate coming to you._

Slowly, very slowly, Robb realised what he had known all along, but refused to admit all this time.

_I have to leave the Seven Kingdoms._

_It’s the only way if I ever wish to fight the Lannisters again, or the Freys, or the Boltons……_

If Robb was capable of laughter at this moment, he would have laughed at the realisation of how many enemies he now had.

_Gods, it used to be so simple._

He sighs.

_I’ll get back to Westeros, I’ll get back to you Sansa, Arya, I’ll make them pay for this!_

_But now I must leave. And when I come back, I’ll make those fuckers pay for it a tenfold._

_I promise._

With that thought still lingering in his head, he decides to turn in, one last time before he goes to where he has never been before.

 

 

He awakes to the combination of the sound of a screeching door and the sudden light on his face, and he can only guess it is sunlight. Another sound that he notices is the sound of someone walking, walking towards him to be precise.

“Don’t waste your words trying to wake me up, I’m already awake,” Robb says, and he finally, slowly, opens his eyes.

The cabin is much lighter than the last time he was awake, and Robb could only guess, judging of the way he was partly awoken by the sun, midday was about to begin.

_Yes, because my ability to comprehend time has been amazing so far, if you’re barely awake for less than an hour._

He scanned the room for the one who had been walking towards him, and quickly found a pair of light-blue eyes looking curiously at him.

Robb sat up, this time only feeling soreness in his body what cause him to flinch a little, and he looked at the Riverlander.

Jajor was now wearing simple, leather armor, with its only unique features small hints of red dye near his neck and shoulders, having everything underneath his shoulders exposed except for his right hand, which adorned a leather gauntlet. And at last, a leather belt with a sheath on it, a sword within that same sheath.

He was holding what looked like more leather armour folded into a small pile in his hands, and Robb could only guess it was meant for him.

“So,” Jajor started, brusquely dropping the pile at Robb’s foot end.

“Are you still intent on leaving?” he said, frustration adorning his eyes.

Robb let out a sigh.

“You were right,” he said, hesitating a bit before continuing, thrown off guard a bit because of Jajor’s eyes, who were now showing hints of disbelief.

“If I go back now, I’ll lose everything, as if I have anything left to lose,” Robb said, letting out a sad sigh.

“One day, I’ll come back here, but you are right, for now I must leave” Robb concluded.

Jajor didn’t say anything to that, he just simply nodded his head in approval, and place his right hand on top of the pile of leather.

“Our new ship will leave in an hour,” Jajor said, and a poor excuse for a smirk appeared on his face.

“Don’t worry, I don’t intend on staying while you get dressed.”

“I didn’t hope for it.” Robb just said dryly, and though he didn’t laugh, he finally felt something that felt like amusement.

“So,” Robb said, when the silence between the two men was beginning to get awkward.

“Braavos?”

Jajor nodded.

“Braavos.”   


End file.
